


Not a Girl

by ChokolatteJedi



Category: Firefly, Serenity (2005)
Genre: Gen, Insanity, Internal Monologue, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 20:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChokolatteJedi/pseuds/ChokolatteJedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Miranda, the voices weren't gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Girl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vtn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtn/gifts).



> Much thanks to my lovely beta, Cass, for making sure my crazy made sense!

The voices weren't gone.

The loudest ones had quieted, but the softer ones still echoed between her ears. They didn't scream, like the Reavers, and they weren't silent, like the others, but they were all still there. They were supposed to go away once the secret was gone, but they stayed with her still. Ebbing and flowing in the tidal forces of the black. Everyone had a secret: more than one. None of them could keep a secret from her.

Father couldn't know.

He had always been afraid, since the first moment he saw her. He never showed it, but it was there, beneath the surface. Afraid of Simon. Afraid of her. Afraid of changes that he couldn't control. Fear changed a man, changed how he thought, how he acted. He had looked into the black once – looked like the screaming ones had – and he'd been afraid ever since. Hid behind banter and honor, but he couldn't hide his thoughts from her. He thought she was all better now, now that the voices were heard, and thinking it made him feel less fear. Made him feel safer. He needed to feel safer, so she let him. Let him believe she was fixed.

She commanded the ship because they needed her to. It was something she could do; something useful. She had never flown a ship before, but somehow, she knew how. She also knew how to assemble and fire any gun she saw, and how to speak seventeen languages. She had only known three before. She couldn't always tell before from after, but some things were clear. Language. She remembered lessons, remembered practicing three. The others just appeared one day. Dancing was before, guns were after. Cooking was before, acupuncture was after. History. Tactics. Singing. Explosives. Before and after, clear as day. But some things were fuzzier. Days could be overcast.

Simon thought he knew.

Thought that finding her and freeing her was half the battle. Thought that freedom in body was freedom in mind. Thought that he could help her if only he had the right tools. Thought that a sleep and a picture of her insides were enough to explain it all away. Thought that all they did was cut. Didn't know they put different things back. He wasn't the only one with tools.

He needed her to get better too. Needed to tally up the columns and find more reason to be here than there. So he needed her to be little River again. Needed to be her savior. She had to get better; had to be better; had to act better. Butter was better but better beat all.

At night, in the cockpit, the stars sang to her.

Knew without looking what each one was. Names and numbers assigned in a lab. River was a number in a lab where the suns never reached. But she could count the days, the years, the lives away as the light traveled. Blue Sun, Red Sun, White Sun all circling towards the bang. They landed on a planet, and her feet touched ground, and she remembered. She could feel its age, knew its ticking clock. And the people upon her just ignored it. Beneath them the fires consumed with heat; above them the air burned with cold. Such a tiny sliver of life in the cracks, and all of it screaming.

No, not always screaming. The screams were silenced now. Far away and forgettable. The whispers were answered: avenged, revenged, restored. But all the middles. Those she could still hear. They went about their quiet lives, but all the while they were shouting inside. Outsides one way, insides another. Everyone had a secret.

Only one was simple.

Ever since that day, when Simon spoke to him, his insides had matched his outsides. He was simple to be around; quieter than the others. He hated her, but she didn't mind that. Hate was simple. Simon didn't hate her; he loved her. He said it every time he wanted to say something else. But he didn't love her the way she loved him. That was definitely after, but there was something like it from before.

Serenity spoke to her.

Controls she manipulated had a measurable and predictable response. Paths she took were charted and known. Father said "go" and she went, and he thanked her for helping. Called her an Albatross, but was right. She was, and he was the only one who realized. One day the albatross would need to go. But in the meantime, she was helpful, and she did her part. Tried to belong, tried to be a girl, but she'd forgotten how. She was a ship and a bird and a sister and a member of the crew, but not a girl.

She watched the others.

They had patterns of movement, just like the stars. Just like Serenity. Sometimes she could understand where they moved - why they moved. Measurable and predictable. Sometimes she couldn't follow them. She walked in their footprints, and their thoughts walked through her, but she couldn't follow them. She wanted to ask; wanted the teacher to explain it all again, but no one would answer. Or maybe they did, but those were voices that she could not understand. Speaking a different language.

"You would think seventeen would be enough."

"What was that, River?"

Her eyes opened, and she saw the light. Bright lights, blue and cool and painful with memories. Two by two. But there were newer memories as well. Memories and voices that didn't hurt. This blue was Serenity, deep in the black.

"Seventeen of what, River?" Simon asked.

Had she spoken? "Seventeen is the seventh prime number. Sum of the first four primes." Seventeen steps from one end of the kitchen to the other. Seventeen children screaming beside her. Seventeen twice was 34 Tauri.

"Uh, yes, it is a prime number." Simon tried to hide his frown, but he was thinking it. "Did you take the blue pill this morning?"

No. No blue. Pills didn't help. Footprints didn't help. Silence didn't help enough. Simplicity and having a job to do and her feelings for Simon helped. But he couldn't help. None of them could. Did you take the pills? No.

"Yes."


End file.
